New Day and Age
by Ly Merrick
Summary: Santana shows up drunk after graduation at the nearest house, and that just happens to be Rachel Berry's.   Extended 3 part one-shot
1. Prologue & Part I

**Title: **New Day and Age

**Pairing: **Rachel/Santana

**Rating: **M

**Prompt:** Use this sentence to begin a story: "Sometimes a girl just needs to run."

**Synopsis: **Santana shows up drunk after graduation at the nearest house, and that just happens to be Rachel Berry's. An unlikely alliance is formed, and an even more unlikely bond results.

**A/N: **Lyrics from "Neon Tiger" by The Killers. Thank you to everyone who reviewed my other Pezberry one-shot, _Little Encounters. _Someone had mentioned that there's not enough Pezberry fanfic out there and while I'm a big Faberry shipper, I agree there could be a lot more Pezberry. I think largely the difficulty comes from bringing two strong personalities together - but anyway, this is at the request of people who wanted more Pezberry. Note: it is NOT a continuation of _Little Encounters. _

###

**Prologue**

###

Sometimes a girl just needs to run. Santana wasn't usually the type to give in to her 'flight' instincts, but something about the mixture of alcohol and sorrow had yielded these results. Earlier that evening, she had been drinking at Puck's to celebrate their recent graduation. It was the middle of May, and the humidity was nearly unbearable. The Latina didn't know if she could attribute her nausea to alcohol, humidity, or the fact that Brittany had made it clear that the dream of 'them' would never happen.

So Santana was running as fast as she could. She had amazing balance for a very drunk person - she'd had practice. The Cheerio had come to school intoxicated more than once, but that wasn't a fact she advertised. She didn't advertise much. As a rule, Santana kept every emotion, thought, and feeling under wraps.

That was why she was running. To escape the emotion overtaking her entire being. For so long she'd invested all her emotions into Brittany, into a future with Brittany. A part of her knew that may not be a reality, but she at one time had hope beyond hope. Not now. She should have known that Brittany couldn't love her the same way. While the blonde was often proud of Santana, and often loving, there was always a feeling of disconnect no matter how much Santana doted on her in her own way. While she wasn't overly romantic and it took a lot of prying to get Santana to open up, she'd tried. She'd tried for Brittany.

So that night, seeing Brittany in Artie's lap and the sad, apologetic look she gave Santana had sent her over the edge. They'd been growing apart in their own way and it was time to accept it was over for the dreams she'd had. Santana didn't know if she was _in love _with Brittany, but she knew that with all her heart she had loved her. The Latina had devoted her whole heart to a losing cause and bitterly, Santana found herself cursing her own stupidity.

She didn't need anyone. She didn't need Brittany or anyone. They had graduated now and everyone would go their seperate ways and that would be it. After all, how many people really stayed friends with the ghosts of their past? Nobody had ever liked Santana - she'd been one of the Unholy Trinity. Of the three of them, she was the least liked. Mostly because she kept everyone at a distance. Even Q had been soft sometimes, during the whole pregnancy thing.

Santana didn't want to be soft.

###

Part I: **Run**

_Run, neon tiger, there's a lot on your mind_

_They promised just to pet you, but don't you let 'em get you_

_Away, away, oh, run_

_Under the heat of the southwest sun_

###

Cement didn't feel like one of those things that you wanted to wake up on, but somehow Santana Lopez found herself sprawled on someone's sidewalk. It was uncomfortable, cold, and her head hurt. Although she couldn't see much of anything, she knew that she'd probably cracked her head on the cement; long story short, she probably shouldn't be falling asleep. She tried to stand, but wobbled trying to push herself up.

"Way to get drunk, Lopez," Santana scolded herself miserably, falling flat on her ass in front of someone's house. It was too dark to tell where she was at; obviously she hadn't made it out of Lima but something told her this area was somewhat familiar, if only in vague blotches of memory. Only one light was on in the house, and Santana was sure she didn't want to get caught loitering drunk and underage in someone's front yard. Not that she had any parents who really cared what she was doing. Rather, her own father was probably passed out on the couch at home with an empty bottle of Jack at his side. She just didn't feel like getting arrested again.

As quietly and as simply as possible, she put all her weight on one leg and pushed herself up on her knee. She wobbled, almost fell again, grumbling to herself. As Santana regained her balance, she brushed long black hair away from her face, started to move - but regretfully in the wrong direction.

Showtunes, somebody was singing showtunes as the front door opened. The figure was carrying a large sack, almost as tall as the girl was. And that voice. The moment she hit a pitch-perfect note, Santana knew. Rachel Berry.

"Aw, Christ," Santana tried to move away from the approaching figure before she was noticed but it was too late. The girl had stopped in her tracks and was probably staring like a fucking scared deer. The Latina continued to stumble away anyway.

"Hello? Are you all right? May I ask why you're in my front lawn?" Rachel inquired, that damn earnest tone in her voice. Santana never understood people like Rachel - people who didn't fight, but welcomed others. She thought of all people, Rachel should be angry at others, fight just as much if not more than Santana. Rachel had taken the brunt of so many emotional beatings and insults.

Santana intended on continuing to walk, but a branch hopped out in front of Santana, and she became familiar with the cold feel of cement.

"Oh my god!" The pitter-patter of shoes and what sounded like knees hitting the grass came to Santana's attention. It really couldn't get much worse.

A warm hand moved underneath her arm and Santana groaned, "Yeah, this really can't get much worse," she rasped with a little bit of a slur. She felt like getting sick, but that would only add to her miserable state.

Rachel seemed to register who the voice belonged to, and drew back for a second as if expecting a flying fist or something equally unpleasant. "San..-tana?"

The hesitation made Santana halt for a second, push herself up, and lean on the shorter girl. "In the flesh."

"Are you drunk?"

"And they said you were the smart one," Santana all but growled and pulled her arm away from Rachel's shoulder - just in time for the diva to reach out and catch her.

The funny thing was, even in her state she could recognize there was a difference in the way Rachel responded to her. Where she had even faced down her biggest enemies - Quinn, namely - she still cowered when it came to Santana. She was always hesitant to approach the Cheerio. Maybe it was because Santana had threatened bodily harm more than a few times over their period of knowing one another, in fact that was probably it, but Santana still found it strange and a little thrilling that she still had power over _someone. _Even if it wasn't herself, or Brittany, or anyone that mattered. Rachel looked like she was quite honestly afraid of touching Santana. Yet the surprisingly firm grip on Lopez's arm told her that Rachel wasn't going to let her fall and get a concussion.

Speaking of that. Santana felt a wave of nausea. "I need - "

"Santana, I think you're ... I think you're bleeding."

"Great."

And suddenly it was all rushing and pushing and Rachel helping Santana inside before the Latina could even reasonably object. The diva was babbling something about not sleeping and seizures and comas and all Santana could think was that her head hurt and she wanted to lay down. Dizziness overtook her senses and she coughed - one of those coughs that makes you think you're going to lose your lunch. Rachel was gone; when had that happened? Santana was just about to lay down, to hell with what the hobbit told her she could and couldn't do, when Rachel was scooping her up and pushing her against the seat-cushions, propping her up.

Santana phased in somewhere around Rachel's next sentence.

" - mustn't fall asleep, because if you do you'll likely lose consciousness semi-permanently and I think that would be very bad," Rachel was worriedly pulling Santana's hair away from the wound. "Oh, good, it's not too deep but it's still worrisome. Likely you have a minor concussion and it's best not to fall asleep for at least two to three hours," the diva seemed to forget her fear of interacting with Santana as she folded one leg beneath herself, and moved so her thighs were aligned with the side of Santana's.

"Why do you even give a damn? God, I'm not Q, you can't just be nice and expect me to let you."

"I don't believe you have a choice," Rachel insisted quite simply, "and you should know I care about anyone - it doesn't matter who."

"Great so that makes me just like everyone else," the bitterness that spilled out of Santana's mouth tasted like betrayal. Brittany. Quite suddenly and almost violently, Santana pushed Rachel away. The diva let out a squeak and Santana ignored her dizziness. "Fuck this, hobbit. I'll be fine. Leave me alone." The Latina fumed. Brittany. The only person she'd ever trusted. And now Berry was sitting here telling her that she was just like everyone else. Just what she _didn't _want to be.

Rachel had this annoying way of understanding what was going on with people. And just as Santana made for the door (and nearly took a spill as a wave of nausea washed over her) a pair of arms wrapped around her waist and clung.

Santana tried pushing Rachel away, her stomach coiling tighter and tighter, eyes hot with fury and underlying sorrow. Strong olive-skinned hands pushed at Rachel's, but the diva only held on.

"Please, Santana. I know I'm not your friend, or anything to you, but whatever I've said, I didn't mean it to upset you. I won't risk anyone falling into a coma just because they can't put aside their pride long enough - "

That was it. Santana snapped, smacked Rachel's arms away. "Goddamnit, fuck you, don't you talk about my pride! I've turned over my pride for one.. for one person and you know what? I got shit for it! I got nothing! So don't talk to me about letting go of my pride 'cause that's all I've done for two fucking years, Frodo! You have no idea," Santana's bitterness tasted like venom, and the dam broke inside of her. Santana's head spun and she wouldn't relent to her emotions just yet. "I think I'm gonna be sick," her voice cracked, her tone softened, and for the moment Santana just let herself stay where she was. She could run when she wasn't about to pass out or vomit.

Rachel's warm hands - surprisingly gentle - grasped Santana's arms hesitantly and lead her slowly to wherever the Berry household had a bathroom. The quiet brown eyes observing Santana made the Latina feel as if she had nothing to fear, for the moment. Life taught her that she had everything to fear.

"Is there anything I can get you?" Rachel asked, flipping the bathroom switch and wetting a towel for Santana - just in case.

Santana shook her head, "No, just close the door, Frodo." Defenses up, always up, Lopez. _You never get anywhere by letting people in. Britt taught you that much, _Santana's inner-dialogue steeled her for Rachel's hurt expression. It only flashed for a second, and then the door clicked shut. Santana's stomach twisted just a little too much and that's when the night officially hit rock bottom.

###

"Do you have mints?" Santana had rinsed her mouth out at least twelve times and chewed a couple sticks of gum but she still felt disgusting. Her forehead was coated in a light sheen of sweat, and Rachel was refusing to let her fall asleep. It had been approximately two hours already but the diva was worried about whether or not Santana could fall asleep. In fact, she'd been practically chewing her nails off since Santana had come out of the restroom. She'd been blackout drunk before - this couldn't be much different.

Rachel snapped out of her worried posture and nodded, "Oh, yes, hang on," she rose and disappeared into the kitchen. Santana rolled her eyes at the sound of wrappers and boxes falling, and Rachel cursing in what little way she did. It took a little bit longer for the diva to reappear, hovering over Santana and helping her sit up. Santana was growing accustomed to the feel of Rachel's surprising strength lifting her into a seated position, the way her hands shifted to adjust to the shape of Santana's hips. The smaller brunette sat in the newly opened space beside Santana and handed her the mints, again examining her headwound.

"Don't you have like .. dads or something? You're always talking about them," Santana was suddenly aware of the fact nobody was home but Rachel. When she'd pictured Frodo's family life it was this gay, picturesque scene where they played the Wii together and board versions of Clue.

"They're away on vacation momentarily," Rachel informed her, scooting away slightly and folding her hands in her lap.

Santana merely nodded, and waited for a moment to lapse before speaking again, "So uh.. how's the head wound?"

"You should be fine. You'll have to be especially careful."

Santana sat back against the cushions and closed her eyes. Damn right she'd have to be careful. She was still fighting waves of nausea and vertigo before the questions came.

"Santana, may I ask you something?"

"Pretty sure that's what you're doing, midget," Santana rolled her eyes, glancing aside quietly and examining Rachel's face. For a hobbit, she wasn't that bad looking. Those silent brown eyes held a lot of unspoken questions. Somehow, Santana felt she knew what Rachel was going to ask. What idiot wouldn't guess it, though?

Rachel hesitated, and Santana saw the girl shove her fists into the couch and turn her gaze to the coffee table; again, that same nervousness she only displayed around Santana. The diva could stand up to everyone except Santana.

"Tick, tock," Santana folded her arms over her chest as she lay her head sideways against the cushions, avoiding her wound. She wanted to close her eyes so bad.

"Why were you drinking?"

"Fuck off."

Rachel fell silent, and out of the corner of her eye Santana could see her fidgeting.

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"I understand."

More silence. Unnerving, grating, deep silence. The kind that made Santana feel as if she were sinking. Her gaze shifted to Rachel, and waited there as if it was going to reveal some kind of insight. Santana's eyes must have looked hard because Rachel glanced over and immediately flinched.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's not my place," silent. Rachel, always full of words, seemed to always lack them around Santana. This was becoming more apparent. Either that or she had gotten hit in the head harder than she thought. It was as if a part of Rachel cowered at Santana. That surge of control gave Santana a good feeling, even now as she felt a bit of guilt.

"It's fine," Santana bit, although she wanted to be softer. "Can I sleep yet?"

Rachel looked hesitant, and reached over to touch Santana's head. The Latina felt soft fingers running through her thick locks, reaching the wound. She flinched a little and Rachel responded by pulling away. "You should be okay. This may sound strange but I don't know if you should be falling asleep without supervision," Rachel suddenly looked away. She seemed to avoid Santana's gaze at all costs.

"Fine, just let me sleep and don't do anything creepy, troll," Santana grumbled silently and lay down. She felt Rachel shift slightly to allow room for Santana's legs. As the brunette guided a pillow gently under her head, the Latina was reminded of what it felt like when she'd been sick and Brittany had taken care of her. All gone now. She felt a sting, and slammed her eyelids shut, hoping Rachel wouldn't notice her weakness.

###

When Santana awoke it was daylight, and she felt a peculiar pressure against her thigh. It wasn't until she looked around and saw photographs on the wall that she remembered where she was. The Latina moved a little, felt the pressure shift and heard a quiet groan. Rachel had apparently fallen asleep on her - her brown hair was splayed over Santana's thigh and Rachel's hand was cupping the curve of Santana's knee. There was something about how it felt that made her temporarily forget her growing distress from the previous events of the night. And then her phone vibrated in her pocket. The clock across from the couch read 4:43 a.m. Way too fucking early. Rachel didn't wake at the sound of Santana's vibrating phone, but she did shift closer and press her head more insistently against Santana's thigh.

_**Where r u? R u safe? - B.**_

_I'm fine - S_

_**I still want us to be friends. ur my best friend san - B.**_

_You're going away to school anyway, it doesn't matter - S_

_**It matters - B.**_

_it used to - S_

It took a few moments of hesitation for Santana to decide what she was going to do. Knowing Brittany, she'd persist in getting a hold of Santana. What Santana needed to do was disappear in some way. If she was going to be friends with Brittany, she needed time to process everything she was feeling. The girl sighed, scrolled through the security options, and reluctantly selected the 'block' function. Frowning, she turned off her phone and settled back against her pillow. A hand stroked her thigh gently, and for a moment she thought Rachel was just reacting to something in her sleep, but a voice croaked sleepily at her.

Serenely, Rachel blinked at the Latina. Those maple brown eyes searched Santana's expression in the dark, and Santana only scowled. She let Rachel slip carefully behind her - though normally she would have shoved anyone else away. As the diva's arms slipped around her waist and warmth enveloped her, Santana realized this was the first time she'd ever been the little spoon.

The only reason she didn't balk about Rachel's display of comfort or make a show of being tough was because she was too tired.

Partially, Santana thought it was really nice the way someone else was trying to make her feel safe. She heard a quiet humming near her ear, and Santana closed her eyes.

It was easy to forget that her heart was hurting in that moment. Even though it was Rachel Berry comforting her, the big spoon to her little spoon, Santana found herself pressing back into Rachel's arms and burying her head near the curtain of Rachel's hair, splayed across the pillow they now shared.

###

When Santana awoke a second time, she was alone and it looked to be somewhere around one in the afternoon. Groggily, she sat up and the night before was all but erased from her mind. Santana had one special way of dealing with things - ignoring them.

The only thing that lingered in her mind was that she vaguely remembered Rachel Berry snuggling in behind her on the couch and she had allowed the girl to hold her close. The first time she'd ever been the little spoon was with a girl who was slightly shorter than herself.

On that train of thought, Santana glanced around and wondered where the girl had gone off to. Even though she was totally cool with leaving unannounced, she didn't think Rachel would let her get away with it. Not to mention she probably looked like a mess. The Cheerio rose from her place on Berry's couch and wondered where the girl had gone. The Berry house was spacious and Santana had only been there once or twice before that she could recall.

"Did you want some waffles for breakfast? We don't have a lot of non-vegan foods but I did manage to find something. My dad, Leroy, he's not vegan so we have some things." Rachel's hair was tied back in an uncharacteristic pony-tail and she had what looked to be a little powdered sugar on the side of her nose. In her hands she held a plate with three waffles, topped with whipped cream, syrup, and powdered sugar sprinkled around the plate.

"Uh," Santana blinked, "I mean wow, Berry." The shorter brunette looked so hopeful that Santana hated to tell her 'no' and leave without making it known she at least appreciated Rachel's (undeserved) kindness. Standing awkwardly in the doorway between the kitchen and livingroom, Santana shoved her fingers through her messy hair before nodding simply. "Sure, but then I should uh...you know, go."

Rachel bounced a little on her heels and set the plate down at the table, grabbing a smaller plate for herself with two similarly-made waffles, minus the non-vegan whipped cream and Santana suspected the waffles were some wheat-vegan thing. The Latina knew nothing about how vegans ate. She liked steaks. Big steaks.

Santana made short work of her plate. It turned out Rachel made really good breakfast waffles and it was easy to forget that she was in the kitchen of someone that should dislike her as well as kick her out of her house. Letting out a few Spanish expletives, Santana sighed as she sat back and a wide-eyed Rachel Berry waited for her approval (in English).

"Did you enjoy it?" Rachel had apparently already finished her own plate and cleared it away when Santana had been shoveling waffles into her mouth.

Realizing that Rachel didn't understand her Spanish expletives and her compliments, Santana lapsed back into English, "Yeah, it was really good. Thanks." Again, awkward silence fell and Rachel had gone back to avoiding Santana's eyes at all costs. Lopez rose carefully from the table and motioned, "I should get going. Thanks for.. you know, making sure I didn't have too bad of a concussion or whatever."

She wasn't good at this whole thing. Maybe that's why Brittany had never loved her as much as she had loved her best friend. Santana glanced down as she watched Rachel nod simply from her seat.

The Latina was disappointed in herself as she turned around and left without another word; she only left Rachel with a glance at the doorway, where maple brown eyes flickered to the empty table.

Rachel wouldn't have been any different than anyone else. She'd leave just like the rest of them, and Santana would be stuck in Lima Heights alone.

###

Hands shoved in her pockets, Santana really had nowhere to be. From what she'd heard over the past two weeks, Brittany and Artie had left for college. So had everyone else in her social circle. She'd assumed everyone else was gone as well, that's why Lopez hadn't been expecting Rachel Berry to run into her with a coffee in her hand. Who drank coffee when it was 85 degrees out?

It had nearly spilled all over Santana but somehow Rachel managed to keep the coffee glued to her hand, "Oh my gosh! I'm so sor-Santana?"

The Latina blinked, arched an eyebrow. Why was Rachel getting coffee from the Cuban place in Lima Heights? Not only was the diva out of place but she was _still _in Lima. Halted in her steps and her thoughts, she saw Rachel's eyes darting everywhere but Santana's face. "I mean, this is my _barrio. _You can't have expected to see me in Q's old neighborhood."

Wearing jeans and a black beater, Rachel also looked incredibly out of _character _in a sense. Granted, it was probably safer not to dress like a school girl in a neighborhood with way too many older Cuban men with fetishes, but Santana didn't think Rachel even owned a pair of jeans.

Secondly, Rachel looked really good in that beater. She'd always worn those ugly sweater-vest things and Santana had never realized that the diva had a completely flat stomach. Her dark eyes - truth be told nearly black - scanned over Rachel's form before she realized she was basically ogling the shorter diva. "So uh, why are you in Lima Heights? And why aren't you in New York?"

"Oh, I can't afford New York just yet. While I have a five-year goal, I'm spending this first year working at home and saving money. Not to mention I'm taking a few classes that need to be completed before I can start applying to the larger universities," Rachel sipped her coffee, made a pleased expression, and glanced at Santana.

"Oh."

Rachel nodded a bit awkwardly. "I'm sorry for nearly," she gestured to Santana's shirt, "spilling coffee all over."

The Latina took in her own clothing and scoffed. It's not like coffee stains would have wrecked much. She was wearing black workout shorts, running shoes, and a black sweater. Down the street, Santana could hear the familiar sounds of Reggaeton being played outside one of the barbershops, a few patrons smoking cigars outside of the doorway. "It's fine. You really shouldn't be in this neighborhood, though."

Rachel looked vaguely offended. "I get my coffee from Mister Manning almost every week, and I've yet to be accosted if that's what you're concerned about." The brunette turned up her nose slightly but Santana noticed a flicker of her gaze, as if the diva had just recalled that she was talking to Santana, someone who wasn't to be tested.

"I've never seen you in Lima Heights," Santana all but grumbled. Mr. Manning, the owner of the Cuban coffee shop, wasn't fond of people outside the Hispanic community.

"It's not as if this is Chicago," Rachel pointed out. "Lima Heights is three blocks from Lima."

Santana scoffed, smirked, and glanced aside. For some reason she couldn't look Rachel in the eyes. She remembered a ghost of warmth, that one moment of weakness at Rachel's house.

Rachel seemed to be remembering the same, because she was bravely searching Santana's face, "How .. have you been?"

"Alive," Santana's tone was slightly sarcastic, but she had a hard time letting her walls down. She felt bad for anyone who might try to get some kind of humanity out of her now. Brittany had ruined all that. She wouldn't allow herself to be sad; that's what emotional barriers were for.

Rachel only watched. Santana's stomach coiled. It was as if the girl knew Santana was masking everything. That irritated Lopez, and she wanted to react with something rude but was at a loss because at some point, Rachel had thought it was okay to touch Santana.

A warm hand encompassed her elbow for a brief second, stroked the sensitive skin of her inner-elbow, and was gone before Santana could react. Those soft, light brown eyes left almost a tangible trail over Santana's face. The Latina gulped and shrugged her shoulders.

"I realize you probably don't like me. I feel we've reached at least a mutual respect in the last four years of high school," Rachel began, and Santana wondered when the shorter girl had stepped close enough for Santana to feel the warmth emanating from Rachel's body. She was talking softly, nearly a murmur, and something about the tone in the diva's voice made Santana shiver. "You're not alone, Santana. If only you knew how important you are, how important you could be. I think it would surprise you to know who's been paying attention and who knows you for who you are."

Santana's defensive reaction was to say something incredibly bitchy, but she couldn't. Rachel's hand had slipped into Santana's pocket and those soft, maple eyes were staring up at Santana's face. The Latina couldn't breathe for some reason. Rachel had tucked something into Santana's front pocket and stepped away before any words could tumble out of Santana's mouth.

Rachel was halfway down the sidewalk when Santana regained her motor functions, slipped her hand into her pocket, unfolded a piece of paper, and read what Rachel had written.

_You may never use this, but I hope you do._

Below, signed alongside her name and a star, was Rachel's number. Had the diva actually been _flirting _with her?

###

It took quite a long time for Santana to even consider using Rachel's phone number or to contact her in any way. When she did, it was because Brittany had sent her a post-card from her new campus. The Latina was torn between finding a building to burn down or crying. While she didn't feel like going to prison for arson charges, she didn't feel like crying either.

So maybe she could investigate what Rachel was up to. Had someone replaced the Rachel Berry she knew with someone who flirted with girls who she was supposed to hate? While there had always been noticeable tension between Rachel and Q, nothing had ever come of it.

For safety's sake, Santana had been avoiding Mr. Manning's coffee shop just in case Rachel were there. However, with her current mood, Santana really didn't want to be anywhere that vaguely reminded her of Britt. Outside of Manning's, the owner and his grandson were playing chess, and a part of Santana had hoped to spot Rachel coming out of the doorway. No such luck.

Fishing the number out of her pocket, she read over the familiar words and entered the number into her phone. Saving it under "Berry," she hesitated. Did she really want to text the diva? She'd shown more than once that she could get under Santana's skin. Yet something about the interaction they'd had not that long ago. Almost a week, and Santana could still remember the way her chest tightened in realizing Rachel was standing far too close and murmuring far too intimately.

It had been an accident, showing up at Rachel Berry's house when she was drunk and distraught. Almost three weeks ago with very little contact since that night. Did she really want to turn this into a voluntary situation?

Yet she couldn't forget the feel of Rachel's hand unexpectedly slipping into her pocket, the way the tips of her fingers had unintentionally - or maybe intentionally - pressed into the muscle of her thigh as Rachel had pulled her hand out. That was interesting, to say the least. An arched eyebrow announced Santana's decision as she opened a new text message and began to text, but before she could do anything, a dialogue popped up already.

_I hope you don't mind, I got your number from Quinn. - R*_

_**Weird timing. u talk to Q? - S**_

_Yes, quite frequently. We've reached a mutual agreement of friendship. - R*_

Santana felt a strange welling of jealousy in the pit of her stomach. There had always been tangible evidence supporting some kind of attraction between Rachel and Quinn. Santana was pretty sure if the pair had a chance, they would've fucked right on the piano in the choir room.

_**I was just going to text u - S**_

_Strange timing indeed. I'd like you to come over today, if you want. - R*_

_**What for? - S**_

_Company? - R*_

_**Y the question? - S**_

_I'd just like you to come over. Do I need a reason? - R*_

_**Usually when u invite a former enemy over - S**_

_I was never your enemy and I never considered you mine. - R*_

Why did she have to be so damn uppity all the time? She was better than Lopez, Santana was willing to admit that. It didn't mean that Rachel had to _prove _it over and over again.

_**K. B there shortly - S**_

With that, Santana thought maybe it was a good idea to bring something over as a gesture of friendship - or rather a proving of 'betterness.' The Latina made her way across the street to Manning's, stepped inside. She'd never been in here to order coffee for herself before, much less someone else. Lopez cleared her throat and her dark eyes darted about the menu before she spoke up.

"I have a friend who comes in here every week. I don't know what kind of coffee she gets, but I want to surprise her with some. Any chance you know of any regulars and what they drink?" That was a good start.

The girl behind the counter, Manning's niece, nodded. She spoke Spanish, but understood English. In plain words, she asked what the person looked like, so Santana described Rachel to an extent that surprised even herself. Had she really paid that much attention? Of course, it was hard not to notice someone that small with such a big mouth.

And so Santana walked out of Mannings with a decaf (surprising) coffee, just the flavor Rachel liked. Hazelnut. It was somehow fitting. The hot coffee in her hand reminded her just where she was going, and that was strange. Santana let that thought pass, though, and soon she was knocking on Rachel Berry's door voluntarily for the first time. It didn't take long for the door to swing open, and awkwardly Santana held out the coffee - both to prevent an ambush hug and to show Rachel her gesture of thanks, or friendship, or whatever it was going to be. The Latina hadn't decided yet.

Rachel looked surprised, and in her sweatpants and t-shirt she looked like maybe she needed a coffee. Score. The diva took the coffee, sipped at it cautiously, and then spoke, humming in approval, "You didn't need to do that."

Santana shrugged.

"Come in," Rachel gave a sort of lopsided smile, almost a smirk, and bit that bottom lip of hers. Santana did her best not to ogle and stepped through the door, taking note of the way Rachel didn't really move out of the way, or move at all. She'd just stood there, forcing Santana's entrance to be as close as possible, the taller girl's body brushing past the warmth of Rachel's.

When did Rachel Berry become such a flirt?

Santana cleared her throat awkwardly, tapped her hands on her thighs, and glanced around. "Are your dads home?"

"Nope."

Damn.

"What have you been up to this summer? Do you have any plans for school?"

Santana shook her head, and felt a hand on the small of her back for just a second as Rachel slipped by and moved up the stairs, motioning for Santana to follow. She assumed the bedroom was upstairs. That could get interesting, as most bedrooms just had a bed to sit on, and Rachel was clearly not shy about making contact with Santana. Although that night Santana had been drunk and the morning following the diva had been largely demure and afraid to make eye contact, some new boldness had been seeded in Rachel's behavior. Santana had to wonder why that was, or maybe _who _had encouraged it. "No plans. Haven't been up to much." Drinking, being miserable, playing Call of Duty with her little brother.

Rachel opened the bedroom door and moved inside, waiting patiently for Santana to enter and carefully shutting the door behind her.

"So before we start this whole friendship thing I'm just gonna say that the way you've been acting is really fucking tripping me out, because to put it bluntly, it really feels like you're flirting with me half the time," Santana let the words come freely. After all, as a Lopez she wasn't one to hold back.

A little bit of the old Rachel showed herself as the diva's eyes darted to the ground - but then there was a little laugh, not mocking, but it was there. And Rachel was smirking. Her light brown eyes held the sparkle of one who'd just heard a good joke, "If I was?"

"It really wouldn't make any sense. I mean you and Q had weird tension but you obsessed over the T-Rex and you're this academically success-driven hobbit that has never acted this cool or laid back in all the time I've known you," Santana felt her heart rattling around between ribs like rain-drops through the slats of a vent. Was she panicking? Was Rachel really making her panic a little?

Rachel raised an eyebrow, nodded, and sat down on her bed. Quietly, the diva sipped her coffee. "Indeed, I am quite driven by my desire for success but you've never spent any amount of time with me that would suggest you have any idea what my non-academic interests are."

"Women? Really?"

"My fathers are gay, and thus have shown me that love is not limited by gender, nor is lust or attraction."

Was she telling her that she was attracted to her? Was it just because Santana happened to be the only one _here? _Maybe it was an attraction of convenience. Lopez frowned and folded her arms, "Look, Frodo," ignoring the look of hurt on Rachel's face, "I'm not just here for your convenience. Just cause I likes the ladies it doesn't mean I'm going to hop in anyone's bed for a _very _long time. You have no idea the shit I've been through and quite frankly - "

"Shut up," Rachel stated in a polite tone, watching Santana.

Santana blinked.

"For your information, Santana, you're no convenience. In fact, I've gone out of my way to find you this summer, often with no results. It was a happenstance that you ended up on my lawn that night, but it doesn't mean I hadn't been trying to figure out a way to speak with you since our junior year."

"What exactly are you saying?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Not really."

Rachel hummed and shook her head, sipping her coffee and setting it on the side-table before standing up and closing the distance between herself and Santana. "I see who you are, and I want to know more about her," her voice was too close, too intimate to ignore. Santana remained rooted to her spot, though Rachel was mere inches from herself, and those two hands were gently touching Santana's wrists.

"Don't you think you should've asked if I was even interested in being friends?"

"You're here, aren't you?"

Damn. Damn. Damn. Why did the short shit have to be right all the time? Santana scowled.

"You're lovely, Santana. No one's ever showed you that, but I'd like to. I've wanted to. I know your past doesn't permit you to allow anyone within a circle of trust but I'm convinced I can eventually show you what it is you've deserved from someone you're involved with," Rachel's voice was quiet, the way it might be if she was trying to seduce Santana or the way it might be during a really good round of sex. Santana flushed red, felt heat well up inside of her. Her already dark eyes must have gotten darker, and when she looked up, Rachel's eyes were slightly dilated as well.

And then the diva stepped back, sat down on the bed, reached for her coffee and sipped at it.

"Are you going to sit down?"

Santana swallowed, nodded numbly, and took a seat on the mattress. Not too near Rachel, because she'd be damned if she'd let the diva take control of the situation. Big spoon once or not, it wasn't going to happen again.

Yet here all the cards were laid face-up, staring Santana down. Rachel Berry not only was into girls, but had apparently been into Santana. When the Cheerio had not really thought of or noticed Rachel in all their years, only a few times had she given a lot of attention to Rachel and usually it had been negative. "How did you know I drank Hazelnut decaf?" Humming in pleasure, the diva's question came out with a gentle curiosity.

"I asked Mariela."

Rachel nodded. "Thank you. That was kind of you."

Santana shrugged and dared a glance over. As she met Rachel's eyes, the diva smirked softly and searched Santana's face.

"I'm glad you agreed to come over here. I always thought we would get along well, even before I realized I had an attraction to you."

How could Rachel be so damned blunt about things like that? How could she be so honest? Santana didn't realize it until she felt her face grow hot, but she was almost embarassed to be the object of such attention. Brittany had always done it in an innocent way. Rachel was surprisingly confrontational about her attraction - confrontational in that there was no denying its existence.

"It's okay," it was as if the girl really did have a sixth sense, "I realize you have a bit of hesitation in admitting feelings, much less feelings you consider taboo, but it's just you and me here. Nobody's judging you."

Santana glanced down at the floor. Swallowed. Her tan cheeks flushed. "You could be lying."

"But I'm not."

Lopez glanced over at Rachel, found a soft gaze lingering on her, and suddenly realized that maybe she could trust Rachel. A little. And so for the first time, she relented to that desire to just let her walls down, even if only for a second.

"This coffee is delicious."

And that's where it began. Santana and Rachel sitting on Rachel's bed, with Santana secretly allowing her walls to come down momentarily, while the diva drank coffee. Santana would bring her coffee every week after that, easing herself into a tentative bond while Rachel waited patiently for Santana to realize she wasn't a threat, humming at her coffee all the while.


	2. Part II of III

###

Part II: **From the Woodwork**

_You took to the spotlight like a diamond ring_

_And came from the woodwork in the hopes they might_

_Redeem themselves for poor decisions, to win big._

###

The friendship creeped up on Santana over such a long period of time that it wasn't until she surprised Rachel with a rented copy of _West Side Story _at her front door one night while Rachel's fathers were out of time that she realized she was willingly pursuing a close friendship with the diva. She was standing behind Rachel's couch, casually digging into a bag of tortilla chips, watching the diva pull furniture out of the way in order to make room for a blanket and pillows when it hit her. And when it hit, she'd almost choked on her tortilla chip. Santana stood there hacking and coughing, not realizing that Rachel had swooped beside her and was pressing her hand against Santana's arm.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Santana rasped as the diva placed a glass of water in her hand. "All good." Sipping gingerly at the glass, her eyes fell on the wide-eyed concerned look on Rachel's face. "Really," she smirked, her voice cracking from strain, "I'm good. Just went down the wrong pipe."

"Technically - "

"Shut up."

Rachel smiled, and Santana rolled her eyes before returning a quiet smile. "Only one pipe," Rachel added minutely before moving back in front of the couch.

Santana chuckled. She couldn't remember the exact moment when it had gone from bringing Rachel coffee to being her friend, but she supposed it was like that sometimes. After all, most people didn't notice an oak tree becoming a giant. It was just towering over them one day. The Latina joined Rachel on the blanket, felt the warmth directly beside her, and again found herself smiling. It was nice to have someone to trust. A friend. It was nice not hating absolutely _everyone _because sometimes .. well, that shit could get tiring. Beside her, Rachel started the movie and settled her head against the couch cushion behind her. Santana wasn't a huge fan of musicals. In fact, she was pretty sure she didn't like them much at all, but she knew Rachel liked this one. One of those acts of kindness you do without saying anything - mostly because if she told Rachel she didn't like musicals, she could pretty much count down on the clock three seconds from Rachel sitting against the couch to taking the DVD out.

Acts of kindness were not something Santana was used to doing. Rachel, it turns out, made her do a lot of thinigs that were pretty new to the Latina. For example, the fact she couldn't get enough time alone with Rachel. That was a pretty big leap from sitting alone in her room or walking around Lima Heights Adjacent. While Santana caught herself staring at Rachel, she didn't stop immediately. Rachel was watching the musical and mouthing the lyrics, entranced by whatever magic it was that caused her to love musicals so.

Santana's phone, having been haphazardly shoved into her back pocket on her way over to Rachel's, began to vibrate against the back of the couch, the loud _bzzzzt, bzzzzt _causing Rachel to whip her head aside. Upset that she'd broken the spell Rachel was under, Santana pulled the thing out of her pocket and looked at the phone. It was an unfamiliar number, and she frowned. On a chance it was somehow important or related to her younger brother, she answered.

"Hello?"

Santana's stomach tensed up immediately. Dread crawled over her skin like a tangible, living creature, "Britt." It wasn't a question, merely a statement of fact.

"I've been trying to get a hold of you. I know we left on bad terms and you're probably still hurting but I _miss _you," Brittany's voice strained on the other end and Santana felt a vice-grip around her throat and her heart.

Anger welled up inside of her, "Does the cripple know you're calling me? I'm sure he won't like that very much."

"Don't call him that. It was my choice, San, if you loved me like you said you'd respect that."

Venom spit through her words, and her fist was balled up at her side, "You have no idea how I felt. It doesn't matter now but what I call him isn't your business. Nothing I do is your business," Santana emphasized every word, coated it with her bitterness and sadness. Her heart was tearing at the seams as everything swelled to the surface, "I gave up everything for you. I'm sorry I couldn't be the kind of person you are, but if you'd loved me you would have waited for me to be ready before outing me." The words bubbled from her throat.

"I just thought - "

"No, you just wanted what you wanted and you didn't give a shit if I was ready or not."

Beside her, Rachel's warmth had gotten closer, the movie had been paused, and a hand was slipping up her arm.

Santana's voice cracked, "You knew how I felt about you but that didn't matter 'cause I wasn't ready to shout it from the rooftops yet," and so hot tears came and she tried to blink them away. "I have to go. Please don't call me."

"San - " Brittany's voice sounded desperate.

Santana hung up the phone, sat numbly, staring at the frozen image on the television. Rachel's warm hand was gripping her shoulder and the shorter girl was scooting closer, folding her arm around Santana. She could see herself shrugging off Rachel's comfort, standing. She wanted to run. The girl she'd loved had reminded her all over again that she hadn't been enough. It had been _her choice _after all. It wasn't until the plastic stabbed her palm that she realized she'd crushed the screen of her phone in her palm. So much for that mode of communication.

She didn't remember when she'd ended up in Rachel's kitchen, but she didn't realize she was even there until she felt Rachel slip behind her and fold her arms around Santana from behind, small hands closing in a fist over Santana's stomach. The Latina was holding on to the counter tightly, a small stain of blood on the edge from where she'd stabbed her palm.

It was the first time she'd let herself go. Let herself completely go. Santana stood in Rachel's kitchen, the diva clinging to her from behind with her cheek pressed to Santana's shoulder, and fell apart in Rachel's grip. She had yet to mourn her lost hopes, but it seemed she could put it off no longer.

"Do you still love her?" Rachel asked the question in a quiet way, but somehow it seemed ... hesitant. As if she was afraid of the answer.

Santana shook her head. A sob wrenched its way from her throat, and she dipped her head against the doors of the cupboard. Rachel was stronger than Santana remembered, because she was prying Santana's hands forcibly from the counter, and despite Santana's resistance, she managed to force herself between the Latina and the counter. Rachel didn't seem to mind being crushed against the counter, and even as Santana tried to step back the diva pulled her forward, hushed her gently, and encased Lopez in a tight embrace. Santana all but collapsed against her, heaving with quiet gasps and pained cries.

She didn't love Brittany in that way, not anymore. She didn't remember when, but at some point she'd ceased feeling sad and she figured that's when her heart had moved on. As she cried, Santana wondered why she was crying. Was it because she felt she could never be enough for anyone? Because she couldn't be what someone would need? Or just because her former self had been completely shattered by the abandonment she'd felt?

She was afraid she'd never be good enough. She wanted so much, but Santana didn't believe she was capable of _being _enough.

Rachel was smoothing her palm over Santana's back in circles, hushing the Latina quietly against her ear and cradling Santana's head, her fingers sifting through thick black locks of hair. Santana was quieting, the tearing ache in her chest a ghost of the feelings she once had. At some point she returned to the present, felt the steady heartbeat against her chest. Lopez realized it wasn't her own, but it felt so near. Rachel was radiating warmth, she was nurturing Santana's need for human contact. It felt so good to be cared for, to have physical contact with someone so ... beautiful.

Santana's cries stuttered to a halt, and she began taking in the way Rachel's shampoo smelled, the way her hips curved perfectly against her own, her palm pressed tight against Santana's back. The Latina's uninjured hand slipped around Rachel's waist, fisted the fabric there. And suddenly the embrace became something all-together. A desperate clinging of souls, a need to be united with this person, the only person left who really cared about her. Who really could see through all her bullshit.

Santana breathed Rachel's name, all traces of tearfulness gone. She could feel Rachel's breath hitch at the sound of her name spoken so reverently, felt the twitch of Rachel's fingers against her scalp.

Santana had the strangest urge to pepper Rachel in kisses, to swallow her love whole.

Love.

Her _love. _

"Will you be okay?" Rachel breathed delicately, pulled away, cupped Santana's face gently, thumb stroking the curvature of her cheek. They were so close Santana could feel the warmth of Rachel's breath. The Latina nodded.

"Yeah," she whispered. Her dark eyes dropped to Rachel's lips. Her heart pattered nervously, and she realized she was still fisting the fabric of Rachel's shirt. Gently, she let go.

Rachel looked flushed, nervous. "Um," she breathed, maple eyes snapping into reality and darting everywhere but Santana's mouth - which she had been staring at only moments ago - "your hand. I need to take care of that."

Santana stepped away, nodded. She nearly stumbled, and felt the immediate loss of warmth as a disappointing rush of cool air. Rachel moved around her delicately, began rifling around for her first aid kit in the bathroom, and then ushered Santana over to the couch.

The Latina sat patiently, eyes locked on the motion of Rachel's fingers as she cleaned the minor cut and placed a bandage on it.

"Better?"

Santana nodded again, dark eyes searching Rachel's. She swallowed. The air had thickened with tension. Need. To connect. A deep ache to be buried in Rachel's arms.

Rachel's fingers were gently stroking the back of Santana's hand in an absent-minded way, and she seemed to be searching for something in the Latina's eyes. Santana was searching for the same within herself.

_Kiss her. _It screamed inside of her. She wanted to.

No. She couldn't. If she did that, Rachel would always question whether or not she'd done so out of sorrow, convenience, or some other terrible thing. So instead, Santana reached across Rachel's lap, grabbed the remote, and started the musical. When Rachel continued to search Santana's eyes, the Latina merely lay herself down and settled her head against Rachel's lap. Satisfied with her decision, she closed her eyes.

Rachel's hand felt warm as it slid over Santana's arm, rubbed there gently for a little bit, and eventually found its way to the Latina's hair. The diva hummed as Santana began to drift to sleep, _West Side Story _playing in the background. As her mind drifted into a dream-state, it cast Rachel as Maria and herself as Tony, but there wasn't nearly as much trouble.

The movie was rolling credits when she was gently shaken to consciousness. Rachel was mid-yawn, tiredly shaking Santana awake so they could both lay down. The distress of the evening had tired Santana out, and Rachel was too early of a riser to stay up late. She had not spent the night before with Rachel, excluding the night she'd ended up drunk on Rachel's front lawn.

This time it felt different. Rachel was heading quietly up to her room, having apparently abandoned the idea of sleeping on the floor despite the blankets and pillows piled there. Santana followed, as Rachel seemed to expect by the way she'd nodded her head. The Latina didn't feel like she normally did, going to someone's bedroom. Usually it was to get her mack on, or something a little more vulgar than that, but this time as she closed the door behind herself Rachel was already slipping out of her pants and into bed - it didn't feel sexual. Santana mirrored the action, and as she slipped under the covers she tried to remain a respectable distance between them. Rachel seemed opposed to this, because the shorter girl opened her arm to Santana.

For the second time she found herself the little spoon to Rachel's big spoon. Rachel's arms slipped around Santana and pulled her close. Santana buried her head against the curve of Rachel's arm, and found herself holding on tightly to the hand settled against her stomach. The even breathing behind her indicated Rachel had already fallen asleep. The smooth skin of Rachel's thighs brushed against the back of her own, and the funny thing was that Santana felt no uncontrollable surge of hormones. It was a surge of something sweeter. She didn't know what it was, didn't know how to name it.

Rachel held her tightly, held her the way she'd hold a lover.

Santana thought this should be strange, but for some reason it felt perfectly natural. The Latina's dark eyes searched over her shoulder, scanning Rachel's silhouette before she settled back against her, crushing herself as tightly as possible in Rachel's arms.

She liked it there.

###

Santana awoke to the sound of an elliptical motor humming quietly. It was 9a.m. and Rachel was already awake, exercising as was expected. Santana groaned sleepily, stifled a yawn with the back of her head, and tried to fall back asleep. It was hard to do though, because that damn elliptical wasn't too quiet.

"Morning!" Rachel said too loudly, compensating for the noise in her ears apparently. She turned the elliptical off and climbed down, moving to the end of the bed judging by the way the mattress shifted as Santana pulled the covers under her head. "Did you sleep okay?"

Santana nodded, lifted the covers from her face. She wanted to tell Rachel it was better than she'd ever slept. It had been dreamlike, perfect, the way she'd fallen asleep with her. Her dark eyes sleepily searched Rachel's face, the way her slightly muscular shoulders and lean arms gleaned with a light layer of sweat.

Rachel smiled quietly, "I'm glad," she seemed to glow this morning. The diva seemed particularly charmed, as if she'd felt just the same about last night's sleeping arrangement.

Silence befell them, Santana watching Rachel with a quiet curiosity laden with sleep. Rachel was biting her lip slightly, but in a moment was standing again and babbling on about something. Santana was too tired to listen, so she closed her eyes instead, and dipped off into sleep. _Just a little bit longer ... _

Rachel's hand on her back woke her up for a second time. It was later now, somewhere around noon. Santana didn't open her eyes, merely rolled over, caught the intruding hand, and tugged Rachel down. The girl landed next to Santana, and without even thinking Santana was curled into Rachel, face buried against her neck. The diva's arms didn't slip around her at first, but seemed to catch on because Santana felt the strength of them tugging her closer, pressing them together.

It was the need to be close, the desire to be completely crushed into Rachel that woke Santana up, the way the fabric of Rachel's shirt was bunched up tightly in her fists. When did she become so needy and affectionate?

The Latina could smell the soft body spray near Rachel's throat, wondered what it would be like to press an open-mouthed kiss against her throat, her jaw. In her head it was heavenly, but in reality she couldn't act on that. Instead, she clutched Rachel tighter, insistently. Rachel sighed into the curtain of Santana's hair.

"Are you feeling better?"

"'Spose so." Santana murmured quietly. She did. She felt completely better.

"Good," the quiet tone of Rachel's voice was like a lure, pulling Santana in deeper, causing the need for affection to swell up in her. "You tired?"

Santana didn't respond, only held herself closer.

She'd wanted to kiss Rachel last night, and didn't. Yet she was holding on to Rachel more tightly than she'd held on to anyone else, burying herself in someone else's arms. Letting herself be vulnerable.

"What if I'm changing?"

"Change can be good sometimes." Rachel's fingers had slipped over the back of Santana's neck, and were scratching gently there. Santana shivered.

"I don't want to be soft," Santana mumbled in quiet protest. She wanted to be tough, wanted to be the Santana everyone knew.

Rachel chuckled warmly, pressed her lips to Santana's head, "It's not so terrible. I won't tell anyone."

It seemed like a promise laced with so much more.

"Rachel," she breathed Rachel's name again. Again, she felt Rachel's chest hitch mid-breath as if the way she said it _did _something to her. And the thought of doing _anything _to Rachel like that made Santana ache in a completely non-Platonic way. Her fingers clutched Rachel's shoulders, her hips and body pressed flush against Rachel.

"Hmm?" Rachel murmured inarticulately.

"Thank you," Santana whispered the words like a release of pain, a final acceptance that it was okay to move on from all that had tortured her. A last breath as all the pain escaped.

Rachel gently pulled away, cupped Santana's face again. It was oh-so-dangerous to be this close, face to face. Santana's fingers covered Rachel's, her eyes searching the soft maple ones boring into her. If she didn't kiss this girl soon, Santana was going to explode. Hesitation made its way into her motion, though, as she breathed quietly and made not a move. "All you've deserved is something unconditional, something safe, something you could count on. You have no idea what it means to me that I can give that to you, somehow."

And Rachel did. Constantly. Over the time their friendship had grown, they'd bonded fiercely. Santana didn't know when, but Rachel had become her closest friend. Rachel had openly admitted before that she had feelings for Santana, but she'd never pressed Santana. She truly acted unconditionally, waited for Santana to realize that she wanted it, too.

She wanted it bad. Santana couldn't act on it yet, though. She couldn't jump into this, throw her whole self into this just yet. Instead, she let out a tense breath and detached Rachel's hands from her face and buried her head against Rachel's shoulder, clutching to her. Her hands trembled a little with the emotion of it.

Someone cared enough, for the first time, to wait for her.

###

"Try it! I promise, it's good. I have amazing taste." Rachel beamed and forced the coffee into Santana's hand. The Latina laughed, rolled her eyes. "I know you don't like coffee but I promise it's like nectar."

Again, Lopez laughed and simultaneously sighed. "Just one."

Rachel jumped, clapped her hands together. It was fall-time and it was cold after-all. Rachel had started her fall classes back in August, and it was now November. The leaves had changed and fallen off the trees, the quiet announcement of the coming of winter. When the diva wasn't in class, the pair were hanging out together somewhere, anywhere, just as long as they were together. It had been months of this friendship, and it had become special and vital to Santana's happiness.

While it could only be loosely defined as friendship. Despite having crossed no lines of physical intimacy, not so much as a peck on the cheek, they were bonded in unseen ways that mirrored the intensity of the feelings that had been growing over the last seven months. Rachel had never pressed, but it had come to the point where Santana had slept over almost twice every week, if not more.

The Latina sipped at the coffee, gave it a second. The hope in Rachel's eyes amused her, and she smirked, "It's okay."

Rachel's face fell in disappointment, "Okay? It's way more than okay," she snatched away the coffee, bounced on her heel and begun to turn. Santana laughed, grabbed Rachel by the elbow.

"It's delicious. Scrumptious. Actually, it's pretty damn good," Santana admitted begrudgingly and looped her arm with Rachel's. They strolled together down the sidewalk, toward the park. It wasn't too cold out, but they both had gloves on due to the slight chill. Neither of them were very good with the cold weather. It was a quiet walk to the park, a comfortable silence shared between people who had spent nearly every day together for seven months.

Rachel picked a bench and sat down, Santana sitting down beside her. "No classes Friday. We should have a special movie day or something."

"No more musicals this week," Santana grumbled and arched an eyebrow. "_Dios mio,_ no offense but I just can't watch another one. All the songs are starting to sound the same."

Rachel shook her head, "Never. Well, I mean, the sounding the same. We can watch whatever you like."

"Sweet."

"Not _Black Swan _again, though."

"Aw, man."

"Or _Chloe._"

"But that movie - "

"The ending is awful, Santana."

Santana sighed, then grinned quietly. "All right."

"Thank you."

"Welcome."

They shared looks, and that familiar tension built up in her chest. Santana cleared her throat and glanced down. She could feel Rachel's eyes still on her, felt the diva scoot closer. "Why do you always look away so soon?"

The question surprised Santana, and she felt her face get hot with embarassment.

"Do you get nervous?"

Santana's eyes widened. Sometimes Rachel's boldness shocked her. Her direct manner wasn't something Santana was used to from other people. Rachel had a sort of confrontational passionate aggression in her honesty.

Even closer now, she could hear Rachel's voice soften, could feel Rachel's hand slip over her arm. The diva's hand found hers, took it momentarily before Santana felt her nerves take over and she gently disengaged her hand. The Latina felt bad but she was so ... well, nervous. Rachel wasn't discouraged, only cupped the curve of Santana's face with a gloved hand and forced the meeting of eyes. "Do I make you nervous?"

Santana could hear her heart pounding in her ears. Rachel wasn't shy about her attraction, that's for sure. And it was mutual. It's just that Santana was afraid to lose Rachel's friendship. She feared, because of her experience with Brittany, that both couldn't be maintained. Though she wanted to deny the question, Santana could only nod.

Rachel smirked a little, bit her bottom lip in a way that was too sexy for Santana to handle, and the Latina found herself staring at that perfect mouth. The diva was pulling her in, and Santana was gravitating without a fight. Santana couldn't breathe, because the next thing she knew Rachel's lips were hovering a few inches from her own. Rachel was breathing warmly, eyes searching Santana's reaction to being so close so suddenly. "What would you do if I kissed you?"

All the air escaped Santana's lungs, and she couldn't even stammer out a response. Inwardly, she cursed her own attraction. It was blinding.

Rachel's free hand slipped around Santana's shoulders, rested against the back of her neck, mouth still hovering inches from Santana's, "I've been thinking about it a lot lately."

Something about Rachel's tone made the Latina groan. This moment was delicious, perfect, absolutely torturous. "_Dios mio,_" Santana breathed the words.

"Do you want me to?"

This situation turned the cold weather hot _really _fast. Santana's hand slipped to Rachel's arm and her eyes took in how Rachel's had dilated dramatically. "Rachel," Santana whispered and couldn't breathe, her chest tightening with arousal.

It seemed like forever, hovering in one another's space, breathing each other's breath. Rachel was teasing Santana, egging her on, taking action after seven months of friendship. Only because, Santana knew, the Latina was finally ready. "Is that a yes?"

"Shut up," Santana growled, and simultaneously her words were silenced by the crushing of Rachel's lips against her own. _Finally _her body seemed to say as it exploded with sensation. Rachel's lips meshed perfectly, begged for response, Santana crushing Rachel's frame to her. Fuck the fact that they were in the middle of the park on a chilly fall day. She didn't care who saw. She needed this. The Latina had been holding back for so long she thought she'd burst at the seams. Rachel's torso pressed tightly against Santana's, she was moaning quietly into Santana's mouth in a way that drove her insane. Oh, the things she was going to show Rachel.

Her tongue dipped against the diva's bottom lip, sought out the source of her moans, and Rachel only seemed to respond with more fervor. Santana hadn't expected this today, but she thought it hadn't come soon enough. The more they kissed, the needier it became; it multiplied into an unbearable fire the second Rachel was whimpering against her mouth.

Seven months. She'd waited seven months for this. And it was amazing.

"I've needed you," Rachel breathed as they parted for air, whimpered the words like a plea.

Santana breathed heavily against Rachel's lips, groaned quietly. She needed to express this, needed to show Rachel everything. "That's enough air," Santana panted before crushing her lips against Rachel's again, moaning quietly in response to yet another whimper of the diva's.

"Take me home," Rachel's kisses tasted like coffee, and Santana suddenly really loved coffee.

###

It didn't take long for them to find Rachel's bedroom amidst the whirlwind of kisses and the trail of coats leading from Rachel's bedroom door. Lopez all but pushed Rachel onto the bed, straddling the diva easily and bending to kiss her neck in that open-mouthed way she'd dreamed about. Her tongue found Rachel's pulse and sucked, hands finding an eager nipple and fingers rolling it gently between them, or at least the best she could through the diva's shirt. Rachel was panting and groaning quietly, breathing Santana's name and a number of pleas. Santana needed no encouragement. She tossed off her shirt, stripped Rachel of hers, and found her pulse point with ease. Rachel moaned and arched into Santana's hand as the brunette grasped Rachel's breast a little hard, eager and needy, begging for more. The connection of their hips fueled the fire beyond the point of return. Santana's other hand urged Rachel's hip upward, grasped at her jeans.

"Off," Rachel gasped out, bucking as she felt the tug of denim. Santana wasn't shy about it as she stripped Rachel of everything but her undergarnments, then took off her own jeans before climbing atop Rachel again. Bare skin connected with bare skin and they both let out a quiet moan. The diva was trembling with desire, her flesh erupting in aroused goosebumps everywhere Santana's mouth connected.

Rachel's skin tasted sweet, warm. Santana drew a nipple into her mouth, groaned at the perfection of Rachel's arousal, and her hand fit itself to the shape of Rachel's hip. Thigh to thigh, they were locked in a long-awaited explosion of need. It was more than fucking someone. This was something more intimate, more important. Santana wanted to be a part of Rachel, to claim her, to mark her and keep her. Santana's fingers slipped beneath the hem of Rachel's panties, cupped the curvature of her ass, and squeezed. Simultaneously catching Rachel's left nipple with her teeth, this caused the diva to moan tremblingly and arch up completely against Santana.

She felt insatiable, Santana felt as if this was a desire that could never be fully satisfied. It would be fun to try, though. Santana's lips connected with Rachel's again, her bare skin sliding against Rachel's. Rachel's hands trailed up to Santana's shoulders, dug into them so deep that Santana felt a sharpness of pain. It only intensified her need, and she waited no longer.

"I - please, I need you inside," was the last coherent thing Rachel said before Santana grazed the diva's clit. Who knew Rachel liked to talk dirty to get things rolling? Deft fingers massaging Rachel's clit, stimulating the diva to the very point of oversensitivity, she took the distraction of another kiss, tongue slipping against Rachel's and silencing each moan as Rachel's hips bucked and begged for wholeness. Santana swallowed a deep, agonized moan as she slipped her fingers inside Rachel and found just exactly how much she'd wanted this. She revelled in every stroke, every pressing of her fingers against _that _spot once she'd found it. Her favorite thing was the sound of Rachel moaning her name, followed closely by the way Rachel's fingers dug into her shoulders painfully, scraped at bare skin. Ever deeper, Santana put her concentration into making Rachel understand just exactly how she needed her. She wanted to be a part of her, wanted this and so much more.

She could feel the pulsing of Rachel's walls, and instead of letting up, she intensified.

"I can feel - " Rachel stammered out, clutched at Santana, and her eyes rolled back. She was close, Santana knew, and she slowed down. She wanted to drag it out. It worked, as indicated by the impatient whine Rachel let out. Santana pressed her lips to Rachel's, fingers slowing agonizingly inside of the diva. Slower, slower, Santana kissed Rachel with a new kind of feeling. Not overwhelming desire but love. Affection. The kiss was fiery but loving, consuming but emotional. Tears pricked Santana's eyes as she pulled away.

She wanted to see every moment, every expression. As she resumed her former pace, Rachel gasped and arched into Santana's palm, began matching the rhythm of the Latina's expert thrusts. She hit _that _spot, just once, insisted upon it, and thought Rachel never looked more sexy than in that moment. The diva was clawing at Santana's back, and her orgasm nearly made Santana reach that point without any stimulation. The scratching of Rachel's nails over her skin was a welcome pain, and again she kissed Rachel as the diva began to breathe normally. She waited until the pulsing of Rachel's insides was less frequent, and gently eased her fingers out of that perfect heat. All her consciousness went into kissing Rachel, lovingly. Tears were pricking her eyes, but they didn't fall. As Santana pulled away a second time, bare skin brushing over Rachel's, she stared lovingly down into the face of the person who'd saved her from misery, saved her from isolation.

Rachel wasn't done, because she had slipped her hand between them and unashamedly found the source of Santana's heat. Santana nearly collapsed from the feeling; it was amazing. Rachel's fingers were hesitant at first, but quickly found just what to do. The diva teased Santana into a speechless state - moans, groans, and gasps the only utterances - before she pushed Santana down into the mattress and began kissing down her torso. Rachel gave no warning whatsoever as she found Santana's clit with her tongue and teeth, causing Santana to arch up and let out a string of curses in Spanish. The Latina wasn't quiet, and got louder as Rachel's tongue circled. The way Rachel's hair fell over her thighs and the things she was doing with her _tongue _made Santana fall apart. It didn't take long for Santana to start begging as best she could. _Dios mio, _she wasn't sure if she moaned this or just thought it. She wanted it. She wanted Rachel to do this. It was an act of vulnerability, even Britt hadn't been _there _with her mouth. Rachel, oh, Rachel was so good down there, so good. She was doing things Santana couldn't even comprehend. And suddenly her fingers were accompanying her mouth, as if Rachel couldn't get enough. Her orgasm was like lightning - it struck her suddenly as she clutched at the sheets and at Rachel's shoulder as best she could. Her sight flickered out for a moment, seeing nothing but white flashes and feeling nothing but pure release.

And it was over, Rachel's kisses tasting like coffee and like Santana. They kissed softly, lovingly, as if they'd waited forever for this one moment. Bodies pressed together, Santana deepened the kiss and she thought this is how good stories start. This is how happy endings are begun. Rachel didn't have to say it, and neither did Santana.

Somewhere between Santana running, falling, a drunken mess to bringing Rachel her coffee, they'd fallen in love and realized that was precisely what they were meant to do. Seven months was all it took to fall in love.

For the third time in her life, Santana let herself be the little spoon, bare body cradled back against Rachel's, fingers laced intimately with the diva's. Before Santana fell asleep, she kissed Rachel's fingertips and cried with relief.


	3. Part III of III

**Title:** A New Day and Age

**Pairing:** Rachel/Santana

**Synopsis:** Rachel and Santana have finally come together as more than friends, after seven months of a slow-budding friendship.

**A/N:** Lyrics from "Neon Tiger" by The Killers. So, I'd like to announce to everyone that although this is part III of this segmented "one-shot," by popular demand I am considering turning this into a full-fledged chapter fiction. I won't be working on it immediately - after I finish this part I plan on finishing the other two Faberry stories I am currently close to finishing. Once they're finished, though, this is going to become my main long-term project. I haven't refined any certain plot, though I have ideas, so once you finish reading this and if you'd like to leave a comment/reblog/review of where you want to see the actual story go, please do so! Your input always guides where these stories go, your input and the character's. In a whole lot of words - **yes, I'm turning this into a full story after I finish my two Faberry stories and I want to know where you want to see this story go. **So there you go! I'm going to respond to all the kind reviews I've gotten for the previous two chapters, and then on with the last part of this Pezberry prologue/set-up of sorts!

###

_Chapter 1 Reviews:_

**Jits: **Why thank you! ^_^  
><strong>hotgrl15: <strong>I wanted to play with a more aggressive Rachel. Usually she's the soft one, but I wanted to maintain that while simultaneously making her the aggressor. I'm glad you enjoy it. :)  
><strong>TrustInFaith: <strong>Wish granted! Question: is your username based off of Buffy? _ If so, yayyyyy.  
><strong>truelovepooh: <strong>My Pooh Bear! 3 I wanted to give resolution to my personal Faberry feelings so they didn't intrude on this particular story, haha, so I guess slipping in that tension was my way of doing so. The spooning was my favorite. Rachel will be happy, I promise.  
><strong>HappyLaura: <strong>Sweet HL 3 I can't help that I'm good. Or rather, that you think I'm good. I just write for writing's sake! And I won't tell any of the other Faberry shippers that you're spying on the Pezberry deck. I myself feel as if I'm cheating on Faberry, but in alternative situations I think Santana and Rachel are perfect for one another.  
><strong>depaul7: <strong>I think that's the entrancing thing about these two, they're both aggressive in just the right ways that their strong personalities are a challenge to mesh together. I think they're lovely though, and this story as I write becomes its own lovely surprise that I never expected.  
><strong>skye-hi: <strong>I'm glad you love it! More there shall be!  
><strong>Spikesagitta: <strong>Indeed it is the start of a perfect relationship, as perfect can be.  
><strong>Brittanyismyunicorn: <strong>More to come!  
><strong>Abnab: <strong>Thanks!  
><strong>fatima343: <strong>Good! That is indeed my intention!  
><strong>Kiarcheo: <strong>I _love _Rachel as the big spoon. At first I found it hard to picture and almost rewrote that bit, but then the more I thought about it, the more sweet it seemed. In a strange way, it seems like it's perfect. Blunt and flirting Rachel is FUN to write. Rachel WILL be getting to New York, now that I'm planning a continuation of what I guess is now a three part prologue. ^_^

_Chapter 2 Reviews: _

**gravy: **Wish granted! Happy belated 11/11/11!  
><strong>TrustInFaith: <strong>Wish also granted!  
><strong>G6-Flying: <strong>I'm glad you enjoyed the ending. It made me a bit emotional.  
><strong>megzb: <strong>I'm relieved the characterization has come out all right - I don't write Santana that often, usually as a side-character, so not only writing her in as a main character and writing from her perspective was a real challenge to be honest.  
><strong>Brittanyismyunicorn: <strong>I'm glad you liked this chapter, hopefully you like the next!  
><strong>madambitch: <strong>I'm flattered that you think it's one of the best, I really appreciate that. I hope others enjoy it just as much. As it turns there is more story to be written once I've finished my others. :)  
><strong>depaul7: <strong>I'm merely an instrument. I'm glad you enjoyed it that much and that the emotion really came through.  
><strong>getyourellieon: <strong>No sads! There will apparently be more, as there are many people requesting more elaboration on what's to come.  
><strong>: <strong>I am flattered! I'm really happy it's turned out so well and that people are really enjoying it. There will definitely be more Pezberry.  
><strong>momo0424: <strong>I agree! It was quite hot.  
><strong>w1cked: <strong>I'm really glad to give Santana what she wants. I think all she's wanted is someone to believe in her and wait for her, without any pressure. While I love Brittana (PLEASE DON'T HATE ME, BRITTANY FANS), sometimes I feel like there's a disconnect and maybe Brittany doesn't completely understand what Santana needs and the time she needs to come to that point.  
><strong>pezberryconvert: <strong>Hahahaha oh man, your username makes me laugh and I love it. Getting them together right away is fun for smutty goodness, but not realistic for something long-lasting. At least, not in most circumstances. So I let them take their time. ^_^  
><strong>nickd93: <strong>I'm glad you love them! I'm charmed by them as well.

###

Part III: **A Thousand Thrills**

_Give me rolling hills, so tonight could be the night  
>That I stand among a thousand thrills<br>Mister cut me some slack,  
>'Cause I don't wanna go back,<br>I want a new day and age_

###

Santana woke in Rachel's arms, bare skin still pressed against the rise and fall of Rachel's breath. It felt different than she ever expected it to, when things finally happened. To think, before she'd ever run in to Rachel Berry after graduation, she was planning on wasting away her time and possibly losing herself amidst the ranks of rejected Cuban stoners. Even as she lay there, she could recall the strong scent of pot from the trailer next door, thinking how nice it would be to lay high and free.

This was a different kind of high, the kind that made you forget there was a harsh world out there waiting for the next person to step out the door. This reminded Santana of what it felt like to believe in happy endings. She closed her eyes briefly, listened to Rachel's breath as she rested there. They'd woken up together many mornings but they hadn't woken up like this. Rachel's skin was soft against her own, and Santana thought she really wouldn't mind having a 'no shirt in bed' rule. The Latina shifted gently against Rachel's shoulder, flattened herself out so she could turn to look at the resting girl next to her.

Rachel was a heavy sleeper, that much Santana appreciated as she watched her sleep. Had life changed so much for them since they graduated high school? Had they grown into such remarkably different people that she would find herself, bare-skinned, with a girl who'd shared a barely-veiled rivalry with? She reached a sun-kissed hand behind her shoulder, brushed a bit of Rachel's hair against her sleeping face. Christ, she was such a beautiful girl. And beyond that, she was gentle and patient. Everything Santana had needed in order to balance her temper and anger with the world.

At the brushing of fingers against her skin, Rachel stirred sleepily, let out a sort of groan at the feeling of consciousness. The heavy blanket of sleep was hard to shake for the diva, even though from what Santana knew she'd gotten up at 6a.m. every day in high school. Santana smirked softly, characteristic dimple there.

"It'll never stop surprising me how heavy you sleep," Santana's voice was raspy with wakefulness, and Rachel's responding sleepy-smile was enough to make her own smile grow. It took quite a lot of her self-restraint to keep a sigh back. Berry was going to make her soft.

"'Mornin." Rachel yawned, stifling it with the back of her hand and burying her head against the crook of Santana's bare shoulderblade, pressed her lips here and there, wherever she rested her head. The diva sighed audibly, fingers dancing along her shoulderblade. "I love your skin. It's so soft. I always thought so."

A shiver ran through her skin, the pleasant kind that made her close her eyes. Rachel pressed her lips against the side of Santana's neck, scooted forward enough to wrap Santana up in her arms and settle there. "I never thought I'd be the type to cuddle."

Rachel smiled against the back of Santana's neck. The pure simplicity of laying together, bare and vulnerable, was an intimacy that the girl would have never allowed herself. The unbearable softness of it was something she would have once seen as weakness. Now, after months of courting - after all that's what it seemed to be - from Rachel, the diva had also taught her that it was okay to be vulnerable.

"What comes next?"

"I think ... life. Living."

"Not without you." Santana heard the words from her own lips though they seemed foreign in their dependency. Rachel's hands encased her tighter, squeezed the flesh on her hips.

"Never."

###

_5 Year Reunion_

"We're going to be late!" Rachel called up the stairs to Santana, straightening her dress out for the hundredth time. "I would rather not have to explain why I, Rachel Berry, am late. I of course would tell them that my - "

Santana swooped down, holding on to the railing with one hand and cupping Rachel's face with the other, pressed their lips together. "Let's go, babbles."

The shorter brunette melted, looked as if she was swooning a little, and gave a knowing smile to her Latin lover. They headed out the door, fingers laced together. Only a handful of people had learned of the pair's relationship since they'd all moved on to their respective colleges. After this summer, both Rachel and Santana were going to be moving to New York in order to pursue bigger dreams; they'd both saved up enough money to do so. Their house, rented for the last four years, was now nothing but boxes and the necessary furniture.

"I'll never understand what takes you so long."

"Don't I look good?" A swivel of her hips before climbing in the driver's side was enough to entice Rachel into a blush.

"Come on, Lopez. You better drive fast. I refuse to be late. If I've managed it this long, I won't even let _you _ruin that."

"Yes, ma'am."


End file.
